EMERSON
For the first time in almost a week, I woke up without the urge to punch someone in the throat. Instead I woke up with an entirely different urge.
All thanks to Lucas. Lucas and his magical tongue.
Grinning, I rolled over, stretching in my suddenly too-big and way-too-lonely bed. I’d definitely have to invite his tongue back for a visit.
Lucas turned down my generous offer to stay the night, even after I’d done my best to convince him he could sneak out before anyone was up. Pre-season games hadn’t started yet, so my dad didn’t have any reason to roll out of bed early.
I grabbed my phone off the nightstand, needing a little morning sexting to jump-start my day. It wasn’t quite ten, which meant we still had most of the day to kill until our flight home that evening. We didn’t have any big plans, so I was hoping I could ambush Lucas and repay him for the things he’d done to me the night before. Turnabout was fair play and all that.
But I never got the chance to send any of the filthy offers that were playing through my head. The texts waiting for me on my phone must have come through while I was out cold, and suddenly what had turned into a perfect weekend was ruined.
Aster needed me, the first one read. Just reading Aster’s name made me want to throw my phone against the wall. I had to force myself to keep reading.
Gala trouble. Didn’t want to wake you. Catching the first flight out.
What . . . the . . . hell?
I shot upright. Lucas had left? Without me?
Fill you in later. Sorry.
He ended the thread with a sad-face emoji, as if that made up for the fact he’d just up and bailed on me.
I thought about shooting back an emoji of my own, but according to the time stamp on his messages, he was probably in the air by now. Besides, I wasn’t sure they made an emoji for what I really wanted to convey.
What could be so damned important—what kind of “gala emergency” was so dire—that he had to race back home at the ass crack of dawn to handle it?
My first thought was to drain my savings account to hire a hit man on that bitch, Aster. My second thought was that this whole thing was Lucas’s fault, really. Aster beckoned and he jumped. He was her lap dog. Her vagina must be dusted with glitter and capable of shooting rainbows, because even I hadn’t achieved that level of control over him.
The urge to throat punch someone was back and making my head pound like a mother. I kicked back the covers, realizing I was still wearing my dress from the night before. Sans underwear, thanks to stupid Lucas and his stupid tongue.
I practically ripped at the thin fabric as I stripped it, and the memory of last night, from my body. Then I yanked on a pair of yoga pants and one of my dad’s old practice jerseys before stalking downstairs to the kitchen. Coffee might not cure what ailed me, but it would damn sure clear away some of the cobwebs that were making it hard for me to get my thoughts straight.
Surprisingly, Seth was already up, and sitting all by his lonesome at the big kitchen table where we’d shared many family breakfasts. But unlike those occasions, he was stooped over and had his hoodie pulled up over his head, as if he could somehow block out his hangover—because if I knew anything, I knew Seth definitely had a hangover.
Through the French doors that led outside, I saw my parents at one of the patio tables. With them, of course, was Bitsy. If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t have given it a second thought, just three old friends taking their morning coffee on the patio.
But it wasn’t anyone else, it was Bitsy. And instead, my stomach twisted as I wondered how any of them could possibly think this was okay. How could my mom just turn a blind eye? How could my dad pretend he hadn’t been cozied up with that woman the night before? And how could Bitsy sit there, looking my mom in the face and pretend she was my dad’s business partner and nothing more?
As Bitsy lifted a mug to her lips, all I could think about was how my mom had probably gotten up early to brew that coffee she was drinking. My mom who’d stayed behind every time my dad had run off when Bitsy had called because she’d needed him for urgent business.
The exact same way Lucas had run off when Aster said she needed him.
Not me, though. I would never play the part of my mother, no matter how magical Lucas’s tongue was.
Turning away from the twisted threesome, I stalked back to the coffeemaker and poured myself a cup. I didn’t add my usual generous splash of creamer. I didn’t even add any sweetener. I drank it black and bitter and harsh, the way I deserved to drink it this morning.
I was a selfish idiot. I always had been. That’s why I’d allowed myself to surrender so easily to Lucas. That’s why I wouldn’t accept it when he’d said we could only be friends—he’d tried to warn me, tried to keep me at arm’s length. And the whole time I’d refused to believe he was serious. Because I wanted him. I was greedy and competitive, and no never meant no to me.
It was all about me. I was no better than Bitsy or my dad. Or Aster.
“Do you mind?” Seth grumbled, flashing me the evil eye from underneath his hood. “Mom’s cheeriness this morning was bad enough. I don’t need you banging around too.”
“Shit. Sorry.” I hadn’t realized I’d been slamming things—the cupboards, the mug on the counter, the coffee pot. I dragged out the chair next to him and plopped down into it.
I thought about talking to him about my Lucas situation. Seth was my older brother after all, and this seemed like the perfect time for a little brotherly advice. But then he flipped off the top of the aspirin bottle in front of him and started chugging them down. He didn’t count them out like a normal person would have, or even swallow them with water. Instead he chewed the mouthful of chalky white pills.
Breakfast of champions.
I winced. “You sure you don’t want something to drink?”
He didn’t answer. Maybe this wasn’t the best time to hit him up for advice.
Drew came in then, his hand stuffed down the front of his boxers as he scratched himself. “’Sup, Sis?” He looked at Seth and said, “You look like hell.” He rummaged through the cupboard, sorting through the mugs with the hand he’d just had all over his crotch.
I winced again. “God. Could you maybe wash your hands before your touch every dish? It’s a wonder we don’t all have herpes.”
He paused in his search. “Shit, Em. Who the fuck died and made you Queen of Bitch Town? Don’t take it out on me just because your little man toy couldn’t take care of your lady boner.”
I glared at my brother. “Why is everything about sex with you guys? And how many times do I have to tell you, he’s not my man toy?” I slammed my mug on the table, and Seth scowled at me. But I ignored him. “Why can’t you Neanderthals get it through your thick skulls? He’s not my anything.”
Drew reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, while he and Seth exchanged contrite glances. Maybe there was hope for them yet.
Then they both burst out laughing, as if my outburst was the funniest thing they’d ever heard.
“Relax. Jesus, I was just fucking with you,” Drew said, finally settling on a mug and filling it to the brim.
“Must’ve hit a nerve.” Seth gave a nod to my dad, who was just coming into the kitchen through the patio doors.
“Morning, Missy.” My dad called me by the nickname that only he’d ever called me. He was cheerful, as if that whole awkward scene in The Shrine had never even occurred the night before. “Sleep well?”
I stared sulkily into the hostile well of my black coffee. “Fine.”
He let out a low whistle. “Well, that young fella o’ yours sure was up early.” My head snapped up, and I met my dad’s intense blue eyes, which were focused on me. “Said he was awful sorry he had to rush off in such a hurry. Some kinda family emergency.”
“Well, hoo-wee,” Seth drawled. “No wonder your panties are in such a bunch. Someone got herself ditched.”
“It’s not like that,” I said, still trying to defend whatever Lucas and I were, or weren’t. But it came out sounding as if I had a mouthful of sand, and I knew my brothers had heard it.
My dad must’ve heard it too. “Now, boys, leave your sister alone.”
My jaw clenched, he was the last person I wanted defending me, especially not against Seth and Drew. “I don’t need your help.”
He gave me the same look he’d been giving me ever since I was a kid and had done something that tickled him. It was the that’s my girl look, and for some reason that irritated me even more than Seth and Drew had. “You got that right, Missy. You never did need anyone’s help.” He refilled his mug and went back out to the patio, rejoining my mom and Bitsy. I glared daggers into his back the entire time.
It was Seth who spoke up on my dad’s behalf right before I stormed out of the kitchen. “Give him a break,” he told me. “Some things aren’t what they seem.”
But I was well past interest in any brotherly advice, especially this kind. Because Seth was wrong.
Some things were exactly what they seemed.